9-11

I still can't quiet come to terms with what happened five years ago today.

 

When I woke up that Tuesday, I remember doing the 15 minute walk over to Funger hall in a t-shirt, jeans and flip flops. I remember having a lecture on the invisible hand in the free market and then Professor Dunn, of my economics class mention something about an accident in New York.

 

It was a beautiful late summer day. I stopped by J street for a cup of coffee to keep awake for my astronomy class. And as usual, I sat in the sun out in the plaza reading the paper and sipping on some coffee. People were running around the center of campus with their Cell phones out. Nicole, my roommate's girlfriend, stopped by with her friend Lilly and told me a plane had hit the pentagon, a bomb exploded outside the state department and down by the white house. It's connected to the crash in New York. Shawn, a fraternity brother who lives a block from the State Department, said he heard a loud bang that morning.

 

I walked into J street to see what was happening on TV and people came together in silent groups staring at the televisions until a security guard told us to get out. There was a bomb threat.

 

Nicole and I walked back to my dorm. Pedestrians and commuters moved in a furry across H street, 22nd street and pretty soon all of DC. We crossed Pennsylvania Ave. There were sirens coming to and from GW Hospital and the skies were full of helicopters. Down past 17th street on Penn Ave, Nicole pointed out some smoke. We quickly walked back to my dorm on New Hampshire only to have us turned away again, another bomb threat in the underground garage.

 

Campus police told us to go to the Health and Wellness Center. That is where I remember seeing the second plane hit and hearing about Flight 93 that was supposed to be headed towards the White House, a few blocks from GW. I wasn't scared, I remember being sad and awfully angry. How dare they? and who were they? cowards.

 

Cell phones were not working and people were rushing to administrative offices to send out e-mails to their families to tell them that they were okay and not to worry.

 

We went to another friends apartment around 6 that evening. It was on the 11th floor of a high rise and a block from the State Department, The Kennedy Center and five blocks from the Lincoln Monument. As the late evening sun glowed orange over DC's prime rush hour, the city and skies were eerily dead. We could see the smoke come up from the Pentagon.

 

With CSPAN blaring in the background, Pablo told us his sister, on her way to work, saw the plane that hit the pentagon fly really low across 395.

 

I don't quiet remember what I thought or felt besides angry and sad for the victims and families. The only thing I was sure of was that tomorrow was going to be differant.